Highlanders

by Tarah Scott

  “Holy God,” she cried, and raw lust surged through his groin.

  He drew back and repeated the thrust, gritting his teeth against the compulsion to climax. Her thighs trembled against his hips, and he hardened his resolve. Erroll drew back and dropped a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then her jaw. She grasped his shoulders, but he kept going, dropping kisses, a swipe of his tongue to each nipple, and nips to the underside of her breasts. He continued down and she suddenly seemed to realize he was doing something unexpected.

  “Sir—”

  Erroll sucked her flat belly. She gave a shriek and twisted. He shoved his hands beneath her buttocks and held her still while he edged farther down.

  “Good God, what are you—”

  Erroll pressed his mouth against the curls that covered her sex.

  She yanked her knees up—which suited him wonderfully—and he held tight and thrust his tongue between her swollen folds to the engorged nub.

  Eve stiffened in shock. “Ho-ly God.” She sucked in a breath.

  He flicked his tongue against the nub with quick jabs. She gasped and the sound sent blood pounding through his ears. He lifted his head and she relaxed as he pulled his arms free of her hips.

  “My lord, I do not think you should be doing this.”

  “Trust me.” He rose onto his knees and urged her legs wider.

  “Erroll,” she said. “What are you doing?”

  “What I have wanted to do since the night I broke into your room.” He drew back her folds to reveal the pink flesh and the bud hidden there.

  “Perhaps you should douse the light,” Eve said in a tremulous voice.

  “Not for all the sheep in Scotland.”

  He lowered his mouth again and this time probed gently at her opening. The scent of her desire and taste of her on his tongue was an aphrodisiac unlike any other he’d experienced with other women. Suddenly, he wanted to savor her until she begged him to stop, then he would push her even further until she burst apart in his mouth. Slowly, he grazed her bud with his thumb while thrusting his tongue into her channel. She arched her hips slightly. Erroll stroked again.

  She whispered something incoherent and he stroked again, thrusting deeper with his tongue. Eve shuddered beneath his mouth. He moved his mouth up to her pleasure point and sucked the bud into his mouth.

  “Ohh,” she said on a moan.

  Carefully, he inserted a finger into her channel. Her body jerked. He sucked harder and thrust in shallow bursts inside her. She unexpectedly jammed a hand into his hair. So the lady liked this. Erroll flicked his tongue against her in rhythm with the movement of his finger. Her hips lifted off the mattress, pressing against his mouth. He obliged and sucked harder. She gave a soft cry and tensed, her heat against his mouth.

  Need assailed him on a tidal wave of blinding desire. He crawled up onto her and, grasping his cock, shoved into her. She gave a startled cry when his hard length stretched her walls. Her contractions closed around him. He thrust, his lust demanding another climax from her while his rod stroked her walls.

  Mercilessly, he drove into her, until she wrapped her legs around his hips and whimpered pleas to end the erotic torture. Then he broke apart, blood roaring through his ears like the crash of a massive waterfall. Pleasure flooded him and all rational thought disappeared. He was aware only of the tight walls squeezing him beyond the limits of pleasure in an explosion that left him limp on top of her.

  Chapter Twenty One

  Erroll had wanted his wife again in the night, all night, but had given in only once. She was all but a virgin. Blane had clearly taken her maidenhead, but if there had been more, it had been so little and so long ago, it was a bare technicality. Had Erroll given in to his baser instincts, she wouldn’t have been able to walk that morning. A possibility that pleased him more than it should have. It was probably best that he’d woken to find her gone from his bed. He guessed that had as much to do with the uncertainty of how to face a man who had done to her what he’d done, and the possible embarrassment of a maid walking into the room while he had his head between her legs.

  He entered the drawing room to find Eve surrounded by the ladies of his immediate family, including the newest addition, Grace Crenshaw. Eve looked up from the papers she and his mother were absorbed in and Erroll’s breath caught when he realized that the shy smile on her face was for him. The picture she painted sitting in familial harmony with the women of his clan made her far more beautiful than she had been even in last night’s fine muslin dress. He recalled the vision he’d had of her waiting for him at home, her belly swollen with his child, and suddenly his fears melted away and he wanted that fantasy to become a reality more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  “Good morning, Erroll,” his mother said.

  “Mother.”

  He crossed to her chair, bent, and kissed her cheek, then did the same to Eve. She blinked in obvious surprise, and Erroll caught the knowing glance his mother cast in Olivia’s direction. Women knew far too much. The thought should have worried him. Instead, he gave Olivia a kiss, then his younger sisters, and even Hilary, who turned her head aside in an effort to thwart him. Erroll grasped her cheek and planted a kiss anyway.

  “Ungrateful wench,” he muttered when she shot him a dagger-filled look.

  He ended with Grace and surprised everyone, including himself, by giving her a brotherly kiss on the cheek, as well.

  “You are in a fine mood this morning,” his mother commented.

  Yes, women knew too much. “What are you ladies working on?” he said.

  “We are running low on food,” she replied. “So we’re planning another menu and wondering who we can bring in to help with the preparations.”

  “Do you expect that many guests today and tomorrow?” he asked.

  “Aside from the thirty we have housed in guest rooms and the dowager cottage, there are thirty-six more who have said they will attend today alone. More are sure to arrive, and that doesn’t include tomorrow.”

  “Why not have ladies outside of Ravenhall prepare some of the food?” Erroll said.

  “That is a marvelous idea,” she said. “Eve, would you mind helping to recruit more ladies?”

  “Of course, but should I leave with so many guests in the house?”

  “Why not? It is our party, we can do as we please.” His mother looked at him. “Would you have time to escort your wife, Erroll? You will also need to arrange for more supplies.”

  “I am at your service.”

  “Perhaps Olivia is a better choice for this task,” Eve said. “She must know the ladies.”

  “Erroll knows them well enough,” Olivia said, “and they will be glad to meet the newest addition to our family.”

  “Shall we say one hour?” Erroll said.

  “That will do perfectly,” his mother said before Eve could protest, and Erroll could have kissed her again. So he did.

  Twenty minutes after they left Ravenhall, Erroll rode alongside Eve and found himself thoroughly entranced. Whether the shock of their marriage had worn off, or she had simply resigned herself to the situation—or perhaps the fact that he had bedded her properly—she was more relaxed then he’d ever observed, and the change was miraculous. Her eyes shone and her cheeks flushed. She looked happy. Did that mean she could be happy with him?

  “I have never seen so many sheep,” she said.

  He looked west, away from the channel, at the sheep grazing on rolling hills. “You will see more farther north, deeper into the Highlands, or even in the Outer Hebrides,” Erroll said.

  She looked at him, eyes wide with laughter. “More than are here on Mull? Impossible.”

  He laughed. “This flock is but one of six or seven tended by Reid Morrison. His wife is the first lady we will visit today. “

  “Reid must do very well by his herds.”

  “He does very well tending them,” Erroll replied. “My father is a fair employer.”

  “Your father?”


  “Yes, he owns more than half the cattle on Mull.”

  “I had no idea,” she said. “That must keep you very busy.”

  “Not I. Until recently, we had a man helping my father manage the properties and livestock, but Ash has taken charge.”

  “Ah, you don’t care for shepherding.”

  “On the contrary, amongst other things, I manage the cattle in England.”

  “So you chose England over Scotland?” she asked.

  Erroll shrugged. “Not so much chose. My training at Oxford prepared me for a life in England, so it only made sense I would manage my father’s holdings there.”

  “Rubbish,” she said.

  He looked at her. “Rubbish?”

  “You obviously love it here. As the marquess’ son, you could do as you please.”

  “On the contrary, it is because I am his son that I am duty bound.”

  She gave him an accessing look. “Duty bound to do what?”

  “No need for you to worry about that. The marquess’ holdings are well in hand, I assure you.”

  “Of that I have no doubt.” She regarded him for a long moment, then faced forward. A cool breeze lifted the tendrils of hair that escaped her chignon. “Mull is so different from England,” she said. “Perhaps you simply prefer a warmer climate? I imagine the winters here are raw.”

  He imagined the truth of the matter was that she thought he preferred England because of the ladies. “Folks have ways of staying warm on cold winter nights.” He imagined one of those long nights in bed with Eve responding to him as she had last night, and felt himself harden. “There is a lovely waterfall not far from here,” he said. “Would you like to see it?”

  She looked at him, anticipation sparkling in her eyes. “Do we have time?”

  He would make time. “We do.”

  Five minutes later, they turned a bend between rocky hills and a modest waterfall came into view up ahead.

  “It is beautiful,” Eve cried.

  They stopped where the mossy ground gave way to rocky terrain. Beyond, lay the pool created by the falls. Erroll helped Eve from her horse, and she took two steps toward the water, then angled her head left.

  “There is a cave behind the falls.”

  “There is,” he said.

  “It must be too cold to go into the water?” She looked at him, excitement dancing in her eyes.

  “In August, perhaps July, if it is a particularly warm year, you would be able to brave the water but, as I said before, the waters here are never truly warm.”

  She slanted him a mischievous glance. “I wager you have braved that water.”

  Erroll grinned. “I have, indeed. This was a favorite spot of mine.” And one he suspected was about to become a favorite for another reason entirely.

  He retrieved the tartan he’d tucked in a saddlebag and spread it across the ground. “Shall we rest for a bit?”

  “Absolutely. It is too lovely a day to hurry, do you not agree?”

  “I agree wholeheartedly.”

  He took her hand while she lowered herself onto the blanket, then sat down beside her. “That is a lovely riding habit you are wearing,” he said.

  “Your sister was kind enough to loan it to me.”

  “You should have purchased more clothes during our visit to Belfast,” he said. “But never mind, you can easily buy any essentials in Tobermory, or have my mother’s dressmaker make you anything you like.” Erroll stretched out onto his side and levered himself onto an elbow.

  “I will, thank you, my lord.”

  “’My lord’? Have I fallen in your esteem since last night?”

  She looked sharply at him. “My lord, I—”

  “I see I shall have to redeem myself.”

  Erroll grasped her arm, pulled her down, and rolled onto her.

  *****

  Eve’s body melted when her husband’s warm chest pressed against her breasts. She spread her legs enough for him to settle between her thighs and flushed warm when his engorged member dug into her belly. He covered her mouth with his. For an instant, memory flashed of him entering the ballroom from the privacy of the balcony, a beautiful woman on his arm, then Eve did exactly as she had last night and wrapped her arms around his neck. She tangled her tongue with his and he groaned with deep, rich desire.

  She plunged the fingers of one hand through his thick hair. He kissed his way along her cheek to her neck, then pushed up and made quick work of the buttons on the pelisse. He nearly tore the last button free, then covered a breast with his palm and kissed her again. She arched into his warm hand, her body already aching with desire.

  Wanting him so badly last night had startled her. He’d kindled her passions, but she hadn’t realized the depths to which she could need him. Was this love? He stroked the breast, his fingers grazing the sensitive nipple and sending a jolt straight to her sex. She wanted him inside her. Eve slipped her arms beneath his, flattened her palms on his back, and slid them down over the firm curve of his buttocks. When she squeezed and arched into his erection he shuddered.

  “Eve, if you keep this up, I’m liable to embarrass myself.”

  “As long as you embarrass yourself while you’re inside me, I will be satisfied.”

  He bolted up and stared down at her. “You are cheeky, Wife.”

  A tremor rippled through her at the name of wife. She squeezed his buttocks again. “Am I too bold, my lord?”

  “Eve.”

  Her name came out as a growl that sent a flush of warmth through her. Her heart beat fast and before her embarrassment could censure her impulses, she wrapped one leg around his hip. Eve jammed a hand between them, cupped his erection, and massaged. He hissed a breath and thrust into her palm. She massaged faster. He muttered something unintelligible, then sat upright so quickly he broke free of her hold. He undid the falls on his breeches, then yanked up her skirt.

  “Not very eloquent, madam, but you did say as long as I was inside you when I embarrassed myself you would be satisfied. You shall have your wish.”

  He levered himself over her and drove inside her channel with one powerful stroke. Eve cried out. His eyes remained locked with hers as he thrust over and over. Muscles in his arms corded as he drove deeper. She grasped his arms and brought her knees up to meet him thrust for thrust. He growled and pumped faster.

  Need tightened her sex and she thought she would go mad before reaching for her release. Over and over, he thrust until a fire burned inside her. Then she burst apart. Hot moisture gushed from her core on a rush of pleasure so intense it swamped her mind in gray. Eve called out his name as he collapsed on top of her. She gulped air. Holy God, she’d had no idea she could feel this way.

  He jammed his arms between her back and the blanket and hugged her so tight her breath caught. Another spasm rocked her and this time he captured her cry with his mouth. He suddenly went rigid, his breath hot on her ear, and a strange emotion flooded through her. A shudder went through him, then he went limp.

  Moments later, Eve became aware of her husband’s weight on top of her. He rolled off onto his back.

  “Madam, I have not forgotten myself so shamefully since I was nineteen. I hold you personally responsible.”

  “Me? Really?”

  He looked at her and grinned. “Who else?”

  The first of the ladies they visited received them with warmth, and Eve realized the marchioness had been right. Folks were curious about her. Mrs. Reid agreed to bake a dozen pies, and Erroll said he would purchase the supplies in Tobermory and have them delivered soon after.

  They visited three more ladies, each delighted to accept the work, and even more delighted, Eve thought, to meet her.

  They reached Tobermory, and her husband sought out a butcher, then met with a shopkeeper with a store large enough to supply all their needs. Erroll promised her tea at a small inn where he said the cook could rival any in London and, not long after, they settled in a private dining room of the inn with an
array of foods spread out on the table, enough to feed a king.

  “I vow,” she said after taking the last bite of a piece of shortbread, “I will not be able to eat another thing for the duration of the party.”

  “Perhaps we should stop at the waterfall on the way home and work up another appetite.”

  “I doubt seeing the waterfall will—” Eve broke off, suddenly realizing his meaning. “Sir,” she said in a whisper, “you shouldn’t talk that way in public.”

  “You had better grow accustomed to it, madam. Folks are likely to figure out what we’re up to when we stay locked in our bedchambers.”

  Her stomach felt like jelly. Would she always feel this way with him?

  The front door banged open in the hallway and a man declared, “I know he’s here. Where are ye, Rushton?”

  Several booted feet approached.

  “Are you sure, Jean?” said another man.

  “Prepare yourself, madam,” the earl said. “More relatives are about to descend upon us.”

  “Aye,” the first man replied, and three large, kilted men appeared in the doorway. “There,” the oldest said. “Phillip was right.”

  Lord Rushton stood as the three men approached. When they reached him, the eldest pulled him into a bear hug and the other two followed suit.

  “That’s the wife,” the eldest said. “What is a pretty thing like you doing married to a scoundrel like this?”

  Before Eve could react, he seized her arm and pulled her up and into his bear-like warmth. Strong fingers grasped her arm.

  “Jean,” Lord Rushton said, and gently freed her from the big man’s embrace, “at least let me introduce the lady before you maul her.”

  “You’ve been in England too long, lad,” the man said. “I just introduced myself.”

  “Eve, I would like to present my cousin Jean, and his son.” The earl nodded to the young man on Jean’s left. The boy nodded. “And this is Ferguson and his nephew Boyd.” He motioned to the young man on Jean’s right. “Gentlemen, my wife, Lady Rushton.”